


sharp.edges.and.soft.rot.

by AshesToFrost



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Violence, Gen, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesToFrost/pseuds/AshesToFrost
Summary: Set in a world almost identical to our own, Malavai Quinn struggles to grow beyond a past trauma, while a dangerous criminal returns to wreak havoc amongst the public.An exploration into toxic manipulation set in a world I created for another, separate story. Read chapter notes for warnings.





	1. MALADJUSTED

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:  
> AES: a citizen of advanced evolutionary standards. They are faster, more agile, and stronger than regular people. They also possess very low level telepathy and telekinesis.

Thursday was an ordinary day. A bright, irritatingly ordinary day. No particularly exciting tasks to complete. Wake up. Eat. Attend a doctor’s appointment. Go home. Lock the door.  
Ignore the bullshit.  
Probably drink to achieve that.  
Mal was between the first and second task. He’d woken around twelve, and had settled for staring at the ceiling instead of getting up. It took him half an hour to walk to the surgery. There was time to piss around.  
But he was so tired.  
He _could_ call and ask to rearrange. Say he wasn’t up to it. But that would open up a pathway full of red flags that he didn’t have the energy to entertain.  
Groaning with displeasure, he rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.  
The usual dark circles under his eyes were as prominent as ever, accentuating the puffiness already around them with shadows. His hair was a mess and probably ought to have been cut a long while ago - but he’d gotten so used to the length that when he got the first opportunity to get it chopped off he’d woken up from autopilot to find he didn’t want to.  
For less than a second he wondered if there was some incredibly different version of himself who had gotten back to work by now by simply choosing to go through with such a menial task as a haircut.  
Mal pulled on his cleanest sweatpants and half-stomped into the kitchen, scratching his scalp as he did.  
Cheap cornflakes and out of date soya milk. Breakfast of _champions_.  
His therapist said active pessimism wasn’t productive. Malavai was inclined to disagree as it did achieve something - it made him feel momentarily better. Life sucked, and more specifically, _his_ life sucked. It was his right to complain about it.  
He crunched his way through breakfast and pulled on a sweatshirt, letting his eyes glaze over the mess in the flat. It wasn’t particularly bad, but it wasn’t particularly great either.  
He’d tidy it when he got back.  
Mal grabbed his keys and left, locking up and pulling his hood up. Paranoia and unease set in almost instantly upon being outside his space. Inside his shitty apartment he could at least close the curtains and lock the door. Outside he had to dodge every idiot that got in his way - even brushing against them brought him out in goosebumps. He’d constructed new rules and regulations for himself to hide behind and stay safe, and having those boundaries stepped over felt as welcome as a punch to the gut.  
Or less welcome. He wasn’t a stranger to injury. Sadly.  
Self pity was an old friend he enjoyed dancing with when he felt unhappily dragged out amongst the masses, and every time was a test of willpower. Look at the ground and walk. Don’t look around. Trust that strangers are safe.  
In his peripheral, he glimpsed a light shade of blonde hair, messy and long, and froze, letting his eyes reassure him that he didn’t know them. Just another stranger. Just another member of the public.  
Before whoever she was noticed him looking, he averted his gaze and hastened his pace, quietly telling himself to calm down. That everything was alright.  
_She_ was away. Locked away.  
Rampton was approximately one hundred and fifty miles away and incredibly secure.  
Picturing the images of doubled high fences and barbed wire he’d seen on the internet, he felt better.

“And how are you with getting outside? Still walking, once a day?”  
“Most days, yes.”  
“Sleeping?”  
“Yeah. Yes. A lot, the usual.”  
“That’s good to hear”  
Doctor Ni’man continued typing. Mal stared at the poster of the gastrointestinal system that was on the wall, following the convoluted mass of fleshy tubes that someone had been paid to detail. Once upon a time he’d known how to keep a bleeding person alive long enough to wait for the paramedics, or where exactly to aim to shoot to knock someone down without causing fatal injury. Now he sat waiting for assessment on his own health because he couldn’t manage himself without supervision.  
“We’ll carry on allowing your main psychiatrist to assess if you’re ready to go back to work at all, but I don’t see any reason to push the point any time soon”  
“Okay”  
“And everything’s okay at home? Getting on with your friend?”  
“Yep. Perfectly well” Mal didn’t need to respond with any empty sarcasm, but he did regardless. They _did_ get on perfectly well but he wanted to be back there in that moment, instead of sitting in a stale white office with someone who couldn’t see past the damage.  
“I’ve made an appointment for two months from now, but remember to come in if you feel the need. If I’m not in, the mental health nurse will be”  
He nodded. He knew the drill.  
“Well, er...thanks”  
“See you soon”  
As he was about to open the door, he heard the doctor speak again.  
“We’d love to see you at mosque”  
Mal turned, and saw no pressure in his expression. Only an open invitation. Smiling a wry smile, he swallowed. “Some day soon”  
The door clicked behind him, and it took him a few seconds to get reoriented. Every time he left he looked for the exit sign, and every time he found it to his left above the glass door.

Outside, the sun was glaring down. Mal held a hand over his phone to see the screen and scrolled through his contacts until he got to the bottom, and pressed call on the very last. It rang for barely two seconds before being picked up.  
“Hey. What’s good?”  
“Hey. Plenty. I was calling to check up on you. Just came out of the doctor’s and remembered-”  
“-that I exist?”  
“No, that’s not-”  
“I know. I’m just messin’ with you, you messaged me yesterday. We’re good. Workin’. You know, the same old”  
“Yeah”  
There was a long sigh, and Mal echoed it with one of his own. They didn’t see each other a whole lot, but he couldn’t deny that Ce’na was one of the few people he felt safe with. She understood. She’d been there. He didn’t need to explain anything.  
“Still takin’ your meds?”  
“You know it. They knock me the hell out, though”  
“We both know that’s good”  
“You’re damn right it is. I need to be awake like I need a hole in my head”  
“You wanna hang soon?”  
“Yeah, why not? You know I’m basically free...whenever”  
Mal leant on the corner of the surgery building, watching people pass as he talked. Somewhere among them he could imagine her bright blue hair demanding to be seen and heard, as loud as he’d like to aim to be.  
“Next weekend?”  
“Mm, yeah. Sure”  
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he tried to pull himself out of his thought spiral.  
“I’ve been thinkin’ about...you know”  
“Yeah. Same. It’s hard not to. Keep...thinking I see her around.”  
“Scary shit”  
“Tell me about it”  
“Still can’t believe it worked out. Do you ever visit her?”  
“Fuck no. I’m not allowed. My doctor says so”  
He heard her laugh, and grinned to himself.  
“I keep thinkin’ about it. I’d love to rub her face in it, once I got past the panic attack”  
“Yeah, I get you there. I mean, please _don’t_ , but, I know how you feel”  
“Nah, I think I’d only go if it was a group effort. And that’s never gonna happen, so...I’ll keep my revenge fantasies for myself”  
“Of course. They’re yours to treasure”  
“So profound”  
“Piss off. I’m being nice”  
“Yeah, for _once_ ”  
“I’m hanging up now,” Mal tried to sound cross, but only barely succeeded, “I’ll see you when I see you”  
“Alright, alright. Don’t be a stranger”  
“Never”  
Pressing the red icon on the screen, walking, Mal felt a little lighter than usual. Yes, true, he did think about visiting _her_ more often than he’d ever tell Ce’na, but admitting that wouldn’t achieve a thing. It wasn’t anything he’d ever actually do, and giving it voice would make it more likely than it already was - which was as likely as a blue moon.  
Her name did bounce around in his mind but he chose to not even actively _think_ it. Pushing it down would one day get the result of it never rising to whisper feelings of guilt and shame in his ear, as it did every time he woke up.  
Some days those feelings won. But one day they wouldn’t even come close.  
  
When he came to the front door of his apartment building he saw a woman, frustrated, looking up at the windows. She had her back to him so he could only see her short dark hair, yet something about it was familiar to him.  
“Can I help you?”  
Turning, she looked at him and immediately her face lit up. “Mal!”  
“Raina?!” Malavai was stunned. Out of the blue came Raina Temple. “What on earth are you doing here?”  
“I came to see you, of course! It’s my day off, and there’s this _really_ annoying new guy in Armed Response so I’ve been missing you, and I was in the area I just thought- why not?”  
Mal couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her. Probably in hospital - he distinctly remembered her visiting once or twice. There was something else, before then, but it was too deeply buried to see clearly at that moment.  
“Do you...want to come in? The flat’s probably a mess, but...”  
“I don’t mind. I just wanted to chat, catch up. Obviously if now’s not a good time-”  
“It is” He was quick to interrupt, and pulled out his keys, leading her inside. “You came at the right time exactly, I’d say”  
Mal pressed the button for the lift and went inside, Raina following suit and quietly inspecting the rusty corners in the ceiling.  
“I forgot you haven’t been here before”  
“Time goes that fast for you, huh?”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Her expression wasn’t cold or skeptical, but still his hackles went up.  
“It’s been over a year,” her smile was sympathetic, but not long-lasting enough to be patronising, “I want to be sure you’re doing okay”  
Instead of responding, Mal looked away and sighed. Sooner or later he’d get ahold of himself.  
Unlock the door. Open the door. Go inside. Sit. Talk.  
Raina didn’t panic him directly, but seeing her continue on and know she was at work and doing fine made him feel incredibly jealous.  
“Tea? Coffee? Anything?”  
“Nah, I’m okay. I won’t stay long”  
Raina sat down on the sofa, glancing around. Mal joined her, trying to avoid the urge to tidy up instead of talking.  
“So, how’s the team?”  
Tilting her head back, Raina laughed. “Crap.”  
Mal could only imagine. It gave him pleasure to think it wasn’t the same without him there - even if he hadn’t _actually_ worked for Armed Response while he’d been there.  
“Do tell”  
“I don’t mean it _really._ But it just isn’t the same at all. I doubt it ever will be of course, but I can’t enjoy it the same. The job is as satisfying as ever, but gosh, the _people_ ”  
“Is Pierce still there?”  
“Oh, _god_ , don’t mention that dude”  
Grinning, Mal shifted to rest his arm on top of the coach. “Please do if you’re using that tone”  
“What an asshole. You know he moved, to uh…” Raina narrowed her eyes, and he could almost hear the cogs turning. “He’s a first response officer now. Taking notes and everything”  
His hands covered his face. “Oh _no_ . So he’s out there? Just-”  
“-talking to the public, yes. I don’t know how he’s gotten on, that was years ago”  
“How many?”  
“About...three or four”  
“Shit”  
Mal raised his eyebrows, unable to not think about where _he’d_ been that long ago. The communal space came to mind, the jigsaw he’d spent what felt like forever putting together and pulling apart, over and over. It had been a generic picture of a river, with marshland in the foreground and a boat, and an endless blue sky with confusingly almost identical clouds. Not a painting of groundbreaking imagination, but Mal had come to see faces and patterns in the reeds and water.  
“Long time ago, I know”  
“Not long enough”  
For a moment there was silence. He didn’t want to talk about it - he’d spoken so much to so many people, repeatedly until he’d turned himself inside out. Yet it was as sore as it always felt.  
But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, because Raina understood.  
Mal rubbed his eyes. “I swear, I’ve been on these meds for ages now and they still knock me out”  
He felt her lay a hand on his shoulder for a few seconds, and though he appreciated the sentiment he tensed immediately, remaining so even when she drew away.  
“I actually wanted to ask if you know when you’re coming back to work”  
“No time soon, unfortunately”  
Disappointment hurt to share. It wasn’t that he felt like he’d lost his purpose without the job, but Mal resented every single change in his life since _her_ . In a perfect world, he’d be able to continue on as though nothing had happened at all. Or it wouldn’t have even happened.  
Absent-mindedly, he rubbed the bones of his left hand and remembered the noise they made when they’d broken. That had horrified him more than the pain. He could still pinpoint the tiny bumps where they’d healed.  
“I should head off” Raina stood up, and Mal followed.  
“I’m glad you came. I’m sorry for being so...not with it”  
“Not at all” Turning back in the doorway, she smiled, and pressed something into his hand. “It’s really good to see you. I mean that”  
Mal nodded and watched her walk away with the usual spring in her step. He shut the door, and locked it, and opened his palm. In the centre of it was a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number, and a handwritten note that said ‘text me once in a while’.  
Mal had people. He knew that. He wasn’t alone. But it was all corrupted. Gone to shit.  
It didn’t take a genius to know he was still tired.  
Mal slumped onto the sofa, reaching for his half-empty beer.

  
Throughout his whole career, Doc wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get a handle on his empathy. It drove him to work as hard as he did, but it also meant he was in deep water every time a patient was in pain and he was unable to help. Which of course was an everyday scenario, but today was especially bad.  
In the current moment, he was trying to resuscitate one of a group of emergency cases that had been brought in out of the blue an hour ago. This man in particular had shown signs of severe malnutrition and dehydration, and even while as weak as he was he’d fought off anyone who’d attempted to help and had to be sedated.  
The toll was too much, and even as they’d been setting up the orogastric tubes he’d gone into cardiac arrest. Doc had been attempting to keep him alive but despite his best efforts, he knew it was futile. Even though he really didn’t want it to be.  
Doc felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard a familiar voice.  
“Hey. I think this one’s expired”  
Rianab, a paramedic he’d met many a time was standing behind him holding a coffee in one hand, bearing a troubled expression.  
“Yeah, I know.” Doc pulled away, starting to clear up the equipment. “Do you know what’s goin’ on?”  
“Not at all.” Rian put down her cup and started to help. “The others are in surgery for stab wounds, but we’re not being told anything.”  
“No press?”  
“Not yet. One miracle out of all this”  
For a moment they worked in silence, clearing away everything they no longer needed. Doc couldn’t hold in curiosity.  
“What was at the scene?”  
“I’m really not sure what to make of it”  
“Yeah?”  
“Really fucked up shit. At first I thought ‘home invasion’ but as soon as we got _in_ there it was...weird”  
Rian pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, frowning in discomfort.  
“I don’t think it was normal. The mother looked like she’d been beaten, absolutely covered in bruises, and when she saw us she just…”  
She made a motion across her neck with her finger. Doc pulled a face.  
“Gross. Amazing she survived”  
“Tell me about it. Holding the blood in sucks every time. All I think is ‘if I get even slightly distracted she’s dead’” She held her hands out in front of her, and looked at them. “It was her, her partner and their teenage kids. Along with her brother, but uh, you saw him”  
They both turned to look at the man in the bed who’d died minutes before. Doc shook his head and walked toward the window, looking out at the police outside.  
“Why the heavies?”  
“Keeping the press out, I think. Nobody’s been questioned yet”  
“You couldn’t... _feel_ anything?”  
Doc wiggled his fingers on each side of his head. Rian shook her head.  
“It was way too fast. Plus, I might be AES but I have to actually get _close_ to people to understand anything. Our hands were full getting everyone stable and trying to get the brother to come with us”  
Nodding, he smiled in an attempt to be reassuring. From his pager he heard a beeping, and shrugged apologetically.  
“Duty calls”  
She patted his arm, and he spun on his heel to speed walk to where he was needed.  
Today was going to be a long day.

  
_Mal was standing on a beach, looking out at magnificent fireworks. The world pulsated with magic and lights and colour fell around him._  
_He had to find out something about himself._  
_A woman, a teacher, told him to follow. He followed, into a tent. Laid out expansively with chairs and tables._  
_He waited, while she left to find someone to help. As she left she turned back and spoke._  
_“It’s just bones”_  
_Her face became clear, and Malavai saw her, saw Lorelai Nastena and thought_ I’m bones. I’m just bones. I’ve been dead for a long time now. I’m just a ghost.  
_The revelation felt natural._

  
Doc stood in his apartment, and stared down at the couch. Splayed out, asleep, snoring, and presumably as drunk as a skunk was his flatmate. Presumably but more than likely, as the smell was one of a bar.  
Mal was a guy who never failed to entertain. Doc knew he’d been in a psychiatric hospital for a good five years until his release when they’d wound up moving in together. They’d known one another before then, but only in passing. Repeatedly.  
The guy showed typical signs of PTSD. As far as Doc was aware, he’d come out of a bad relationship with a woman who’d been locked up about six years prior. He knew no details aside from the few that he remembered from being on the news at the time, but it was essentially none of his business.  
When he’d first moved in, he’d been surprised to find most of the furniture rearranged. When he’d asked, Mal had at first only explained that it was feng shui.  
_“My mother would do it,” he’d said, rolling his eyes at him, “it makes me feel safe” Mal clearly resented having to admit to it._  
 _“Well, I think it’s neat.” Doc had replied, grinning. “The place needed a fresh outlook anyway”_  
Doc reached out and prodded him on the cheek.  
“Oi. Wake up”  
There was a quiet mumble, but Mal didn’t open his eyes. Doc prodded him again, this time on the shoulder.  
“Wasit”  
“Hmm? Didn’t catch that”  
“What is it?”  
Mal opened his eyes, squinting up at him.  
“You got a letter. Also we gotta eat”  
“Hmph”  
Mal slowly sat up and cradled his head. He sat there, rubbing his eyes.  
“What’s the time?”  
“Like...2 AM”  
“You had a late one”  
Doc chucked the letter on the sofa next to him, and made his way into the kitchen. He heard Malavai get up and follow, picking up bottles as he did, and got out a thankfully untouched bottle of red wine from the cupboard, and started making pasta.  
“How was work?” Mal asked, before clattering the empties into the bin. Doc waited for the water to boil and shrugged.  
“Weird. Bunch of people had been stabbed, or...stabbed themselves. One guy died cos he hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for....well, for as long as his body could take it.”  
“Huh”  
Mal frowned at the vegetables, pushing them around the pan, scrunching his nose up in what seemed to be confusion.  
“What is it?”  
“Oh, nothing. Just weirdly familiar”  
Doc decided to outright not press the issue. They were both tired.  
“Takin’ your meds?”  
“Yep”  
“Went to the doctor’s?”  
“Yeah. Still signed off work”  
Mal continued nudging the vegetables, and reached for the wine, pouring a third in before handing it back. Doc raised it and proceeded to down a considerable swig, coughing as it hit his throat. It was strong, but not too vinegar-y. An old favourite.  
“That stressful, huh?”  
“It’s my day off tomorrow. I wanna relax.”  
“That is fair”  
When it was ready, they sat down and ate. Doc drank the rest of the bottle while he did, Mal ranted about his ‘unproductive’ day. Doc would disagree as a knee-jerk reaction, but he knew the difference between blowing off steam and genuine self-deprivation.  
He eventually sat back, and nodded toward the padded envelope on the table.  
“You gonna open it?”  
Mal stared at it, before pulling it toward him and tearing it open. Inside was nothing but a single ring, and the man froze, his jaw suddenly incredibly tense. The longer the silence went on, the more his shoulders hunched over and started to shake.  
Mal was a man who gave off signs of trouble and mental distress. This was one of those signs.

  
It couldn’t be.  
Mal held the cold metal in his hand. Disbelief gave way to tunnel vision. His chest hurt. His lungs hurt. His head hurt. Every limb felt as heavy as if his bones were metal. It felt like he’d suddenly gotten the flu.  
It couldn’t be.  
How had she found him?  
How had she been able to send anything?  
Why had she kept it?  
There was a knock at the door, and Malavai almost jumped out of his seat. Kimble got up, rushing over to answer.  
“I got it”  
Mal couldn’t move. He slowly placed the ring on the table, and, limbs as heavy as in a dream, he stood up. Stepped back.  
In the distance, he heard Kimble talking with someone familiar.  
Like a zombie, he stumbled out into the living room to find Raina Temple back in his apartment.  
Her expression was one of concern. Deep concern, and buried anger.  
“What is it?”  
Raina looked at Kimble, looked at them both and took a deep breath.  
“She’s escaped. Lorelai’s out”


	2. MALICIOUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for rape mention.

“I’m so sorry. I found out as soon as I came on shift - they wanted me to tell you”  
Malavai felt the soft surface of the sofa underneath his hands, and squished it, picking at a stain. This place was his, and nobody could take that from him.  
Kimble was sitting next to him, still talking. Trying to understand the gravity of the situation.  
Mal wanted to tell him there was no point. That Lorelai would find him and that would be the end of it.  
“We need to begin arrangements for protective surveillance. It’s likely she’ll try to make contact”  
While knowing he should talk, to tell her about the letter, all he could manage was a nod. If he didn’t acknowledge it, it wasn’t happening. If he could ignore it, it would go away.  
Raina knelt down to look him in the eye, and Mal thought she looked rather like she’d been set alight inside. Her eyes were too intense to look at, and instead he looked at her neat black braids, examining the intricate handiwork.  
“It’s going to be okay. She doesn’t know where you live”  
_How powerless did he need to be made to feel?_  
“Yes, she does.”  
Malavai pretended he didn’t feel his eyes sting and taste salt on his lips, opting to point over to the table where the envelope still was. Doc got up to hand it over along with its contents, Raina carefully bagging it up and pocketing it.  
“How did this happen?”  
He watched as she glanced at her watch. “We’re not sure. The escape took place last week, as far as we’re aware. Rampton had some issues in informing us to begin with, and by the time we knew she’d already made our radar”  
“The stab victims”  
They both looked to Kimble, who was chewing on his lip. Raina Temple nodded.  
“We think that incident had something to do with her. It’s too similar”  
“You said it was familiar” Kimble spoke with unease. “I’m totally not gonna get to sleep tonight”  
“Take the day off”  
“Already have”  
Raina Temple paused and placed a hand on Mal’s shoulder. “I promise it’s going to be okay. I’m having Andy on watch outside as soon as I can. She’ll be back behind bars before you know it”  
Nodding, he muttered under his breath, repeating the statement. “It’s going to be okay”  
Mal had to believe that.  
“I’m sorry this is happening.”  
  
Raina left not long after. Malavai heard the door close and got up, walking to the bathroom. The paint needed touching up. It was peeling off the door at the corners, revealing the cheap wood underneath.  
Kneeling beside the toilet, he retched into it for what he thought had to be a solid ten minutes. Each time he’d move to stand, fear and nausea took over and he had to heave into the bowl until it subsided. Nothing came up aside from spit and wine, yet the taste amounted to only his helplessness.  
Though Raina had taken it far away for inspection, he still felt the cold hard metal of the ring in his hand. He remembered the shame and mortification she’d made him feel.  
_“Marry you? Of course not”  
“I...thought-”_ _  
__“You tried to kill me. What did you think?”_ _  
__“Nothing. Clearly I was mistaken.”_ _  
__“You belong to me. There’s a difference”_ __  
She’d laughed it off, and sauntered away.  
It took an enormous learned effort to remind himself that sickness in reaction was no reflection of himself, but Lorelai instead. Just because she’d reduced him to this quivering wreck does not mean he’s a lesser being - it meant she was someone capable of terrible and terrifying things.  
What brought nausea back to his throat and made him sweat was the constant remainder of himself that admired and missed her. That whispered he was only worth what she told him to be, and should be discarded and crushed at will.  
Although only natural to dwell upon, everything that had attracted him to her was also a reason he felt sick. He’d promised himself to pry the rot she’d infected him with from his veins, but even after almost seven long years spent cutting every spore he found from his being she stayed as black and tar-like as ever within him.  
She wouldn’t take his life from him again.  
Malavai glanced up at the clock. 3:10 AM  
Almost time for salah. That would make him feel safe again. He ran the taps, washing his arms and face, and made his way back to his room. The ritual of it, the sounds in his mouth and the feeling of pressing the mat under his palms felt so familiar he could almost be glad to have already been awake.

When he walked back out into the living room, he found Doc still sat on the couch. He’d turned the lights off, and was on his phone with the TV on a source channel with no signal. The blue light was reflected onto his face, his brow furrowed in concentration.  
“Not going to bed?”  
Kimble continued to tap on his phone screen, but shook his head. Mal came over to sit beside him, glancing at his mobile to see he was playing a puzzle game.  
“It’s relaxing”  
“You definitely seem relaxed”  
Malavai got up again, restless, and walked over to the kitchen. Out of the fridge he got a single beer bottle, and cracked it open. It took him about ten seconds to down, and he leaned over the counter and burped.  
“Ah, god”  
Behind him, he heard the man laugh. He burped again, groaning.  
“That was not fun”  
“You seriously need to get your alcoholism in order, dude”  
“I’ll get on it after this next one”  
Opening the fridge door again, he reached for another beer. This one took a little longer to down, and the cold started to get to him faster.  
Once done, he immediately let out a painful burp again, but felt at least as intoxicated as was wanted, and wandered back into the dimly lit living room to sit down. Doc had put his phone away, and regarded him for a long moment.  
“Do you wanna sleep alone?”  
Lorelai had made him vulnerable again, without even being present. Mal shook his head to the question, fully able to accept comfort and assistance when it was detrimental to his health. Doc Kimble was safe. He was someone with his profession moulded into his entire person and Mal suspected he’d been such since birth - someone who saw the maladies and vulnerabilities in everyone and everything around him, and strived to improve the quality of existence beyond them.  
And they’d had sex. Many moons ago, but still, there was something to be said about someone who’d seen you naked for attaining a sense of being understood at your worst. Malavai watched him fetch his phone charger from his room and headed into his own, leaving the door open. A few minutes later he was joined in bed, and Mal fell asleep to the rhythm of their breathing.  
  
  
GONE SHOPPING. WON’T BE LONG.  
Simple. To the point. No unnecessary additions. Doc wanted to write more, but he somehow doubted that would be appreciated. Quinn was a dude who preferred efficiency over emotional recognition - and also a dude he hadn’t thought of as Quinn for a good long while.  
Doc sighed and left the note on the side table next to the lamp and pile of meds Mal kept by his bed.  
He hadn’t the faintest idea how to deal with what apparently was taking place. Over time he’d gleaned an impression of who this woman, Lorelai Nastena, was. From how Mal would respond to being even slightly brushed against, and the long showers he’d take after they’d drunkenly jerked each other off, to how if Doc was tired and not awfully talkative he’d be nervously questioned on his mood and if it was the other’s fault. Once, he’d accidentally slammed the fridge door shut and Mal had jumped nearly out of his skin, opting to retreat to his room for hours.  
However, now Lorelai had actually broken out of her imprisonment and had was trying to establish contact with the guy. Dangerous didn’t touch it - she was a bona-fide wacko. The police were on it, but he still needed a plan if they were to ever come across one another.  
Call the cops was first on the list, but after that? While waiting for them to show up? Or if she somehow took his phone?  
Maybe the vegetable aisle would have the answers. He’d talk it all through with Mal when he got back.  
  
  
Malavai woke up to the sound of the floorboards creaking, and sighed, rolling over. There was something next to his meds. A piece of paper. A note. He read it and rolled his eyes. He’d slept through the entire time he’d been gone. No surprise there.  
Popping his pills into his mouth, he got up, pulling on his sweatpants and ruffling his hair out of its bed mess. Bleary-eyed, he cracked open his door, strolled into the living room - and froze.  
There, in the middle of the room, stood a woman with messy blonde hair. A vietnamese woman with detailed tattoos on her arms, holding the TV remote in her hands, making it float a couple of centimetres above her palm. A woman whose expression remained as frighteningly closed and hateful as utterly expected even as she turned to see him, standing transfixed in the doorway.  
Malavai let out a breath, uttering her name barely above a whisper.  
“Lorelai”

“Oh, I missed you” Lorelai swept over to him, and he stumbled backwards across the room, screwing his eyes shut in fearful anticipation. He was sure in that moment he was about to die. That every effort he’d made to get away had been for nothing.  
When the blow he expected didn’t come, he opened his eyes to see her holding her hands out in confused reassurance. Malavai kept his breathing under control. In. Out. Slowly. Silence stretched out, before she spoke again.   
“Babe, what’s wrong?”   
He needed to vomit again. He forced himself to talk. “Why are you here?”  
“For you, of course. Didn’t you get my present?”   
In an effort to put some kind of distance between them, he patted the wall behind him, feeling where the wall lead to the kitchen, shakily backing away.   
“Please, leave”   
“Excuse me?”   
For a second, he saw it. The truth behind her feigned concern. The piercing empty hatred in her eyes. If he was a kid, he’d have pissed himself. He felt the need regardless. His breathing was too fast. Mouth was dry.   
“I’ve come back for you. Just for you. I spent years working towards this. I even learnt mandarin, just for you. I thought you’d be happy”   
The way she sounded vulnerable made him feel too guilty to admit. Maybe she was upset. Maybe it was his fault. All of it. Then, as quickly as fear had taken over and rendered him almost immobile, he could suddenly move.  
He didn’t have time to think - he grabbed the nearest saucepan and swung it at her head. If he stopped to think, she’d only use her speed against him. Lorelai ducked and swore, and he backed himself into the kitchen, trying to feel his way toward the cutlery drawers.   
“Get _out!_ ”  
Lorelai came forward and he swung the saucepan at her again, almost making contact but something got in the way. Her hand. She’d grabbed the handle before he could hit her and was holding him off easily even with all his panic-fueled adrenaline.   
“What are you doing?!”   
She truly looked confused, but raised her other hand and he grabbed her wrist. She couldn’t touch him. Mal tried his hardest to hold her away, but his arms were shaking considerably. Lorelai got her hand close enough to touch his hair and he let go like her skin burned his. Her fingers touched the jet black strands and tugged at them. The memory of her roughly pulling it made him wince.  
“You grew it out”   
That’s what happens when you’re in a psych ward.  
No voiced retort came to his rescue; he only stayed utterly silent. Her other hand touched his and he pulled away from the saucepan. Lorelai placed it down on the side counter, not taking her eyes off him, or her hand away from his hair.   
“I’m not for you to _own_ ”   
In the silence where she ignored him, Malavai slipped a hand into the drawer behind him and pulled out a knife, trying to aim for her neck. In a flash, she caught his wrist, twisted it so he dropped the blade and spun him around, shoving him against the wall. His face hit the surface first with a dull thud and he bit his tongue in shock.   
Lorelai held his arm behind him, pushing it further than it was supposed to go.  
“Aren’t you?”  
Malavai felt the muscles in his shoulder scream in warning, the tendons close to tearing. The joint was going to pop out if she wasn’t careful. Lorelai wasn’t careful.   
“You’re _mine_ .” She hissed, into his ear. “We both know it. You belong to me”  
Bracing against the wall by pushing his forehead into it, he kicked her in the shin, allowing for a momentary release wherein he pulled out of her grasp and turned to try to aim a punch for her face.   
She was quicker than he was. Lorelai caught his fist in her hand, his left hand, and opened it with ease, pressing down on the bones in his palm. Mal cried out in pain, feeling them start to fracture, and she let go to hold onto his skull, bashing the back of it against the wall.  
“Calm down-stop fighting!” She commanded, holding his head in a crushing grip, her fingers on his temples. Malavai’s arms immediately fell slack and his gaze dropped to the floor. He couldn’t resist Lorelai’s commands when she forced them onto him as such. “I don’t want to hurt you”   
Malavai stared at her incredulously. “You say that every time” You still do.  
He didn’t like how calm he sounded. He wasn’t calm. He was full to the brim with disgusted rage and panic. Somewhere inside himself he tasted metal on his tongue and realised his nose was bleeding.   
“And I mean it”  
Like fuck she means it.  
“Do you remember the first time I broke your jaw?”  
The memory horrified him. He slid down the wall, and sat on the floor. If he could have dug his way through, he would have. He wanted to get away.   
Malavai looked her in the eye.   
“You’re a rapist. And a murderer. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for doing my job”   
“Don’t use that word”   
“Murderer?”   
“Rapist”   
Crouching down to his level, she still maintained a concerned expression. Except now it was hurt.   
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want”   
“I didn’t want _any_ of it. But I would have done anything for you. To make you happy. To please you. And you knew that”   
“Any of it?”   
The floor was a better place to stare at. Lorelai was dangerous because she knew him. He said nothing.   
“Besides, you can’t rape a dude”   
_Oh, you cunt._   
Malavai’s hand formed a fist, and right there he almost broke free and tore her throat out. She must have sensed it because within half a second her hands were up in faux surrender.   
“Alright, alright! Say you can, somehow. I just don’t see how that’s what I did. You loved me. You _love_ me”   
“You knew me.” Every word weighed him down, and felt like a ton to drag up and give voice to. “You _knew_ me. You know I’m not well. You knew that and used it because you enjoyed it. If you can’t see that now, you never will”   
Lorelai brushed a hair out of his face, and he hoped she could see how nauseous it made him. Genuinely nauseous. Mal thought he was close to having a full on anxiety attack. There wasn’t anything he could do to calm himself. His nightmare had arrived.   
“I know you feel the same way for me.”   
Her voice was gentle, and every time she spoke it still caught him off-guard. Every time.   
“I can feel it, if I really...try to look”   
Before Lorelai had the chance to prod and pry at his thoughts, he spat in her face. She reeled back, wiping the residue from her skin. Malavai couldn’t fight, but he would try. Because she was right, and it was destroying him. He knew that.  
“Get out.”   
Voice dripping with malice, he glared at her. Lorelai tilted her head, considering him in a way he knew was implying she could just _take_ him with her without giving him a choice.   
“I want you with me”   
“Well,” he retorted, “we all want things we can’t have”   
“But I _do_ have you. Why are you hurting yourself like this?”   
I’m not hurting myself. You’re hurting me. Don’t speak in that tone that makes it sound like you care.  
It took all his strength to not get sucked in to her black hole of destruction. He couldn’t believe her lies.   
And that’s what they were. Lies, just ones she also sometimes believed.   
“What do you want?” He knew the answer.   
“I want you to come back to me, because I love you”   
There was a day passed where he’d have died to hear that. But now he knew what that meant, coming from her.  
“You know that’s not going to happen”   
Slowly, Lorelai stood up and looked down at him, her hair falling around her face and neck like a halo.   
“It’ll happen. But I’ll go, for now. I’ll come back when you’re ready”   
She picked up the knife from the floor and put it back in the drawer, tapping the counter.   
“Nice place”   
With that, she looked back at him for a drawn-out minute, and left.  
  
  
There were approximately three sights he expected to come home to, but Mal sat at the table nursing a nasty bruise on his face with frozen peas wasn’t one of them. There was a moment of silence as he put down the shopping bags on the floor and waited for an explanation. Glancing about, Doc noticed there was a small amount of blood on the floor.   
Well, _something_ had clearly taken place.   
“Is everything alright?”   
He didn’t get a response, only a tiny shake of the head. Perhaps it was more than just a freak out. Doc sat down at the table opposite, and gave him his full attention.   
“What happened?”   
Mal proceeded to close his eyes and breathe deeply. Doc noticed he was shaking and narrowed his eyes, leaning back to glance around the flat again. Nothing about this felt good.   
“She showed up”   
Holy shit.  
Doc was almost sure he’d actually sworn out loud. Now he was officially worried for his own safety, as well as his flatmate’s. But he had to maintain composure. One of them had to.   
She’d gotten in? How had she broken in? Doc looked at the windows and saw one of them was cracked open. They were on the fourth level, far too high up for anyone normally to scale and climb in. But the policewoman who’d visited yesterday had mentioned that Nastena was AES.   
“What did she do?”   
“Tried to get me to leave with her”   
“Jesus Christ”   
Doc went over to the window and closed it, locking it shut. In the summer heat it would suck, but they could get fans. They already had a large one in a cupboard in the hall. This was serious.   
“Are you alright?”   
Another shake of the head. Doc sat and listened as he recounted what had taken place, trying not to lose his cool.   
“I’ll kill her myself” He said, when Mal had finished.   
“Join the queue” Was the dispassionate reply.


	3. MALADAPTIVE

_ “You know, I think we might have a kid” _ __   
_ “Really?” _ __   
__ “I obviously have no way of knowing, but I’m pretty sure”  
  
  
The woman came out of her house, opening the car and putting in her bags, flicking back her thick black braids and calling back to the house. After a minute the young girl followed her out, dressed for school and carrying her backpack in her right hand, eagerly skipping down the steps. They stood outside, the woman telling her daughter something while helping her into the car before going back to lock up. The two looked completely different, the mother a carribean-syrian woman with dark skin, and the girl an east asian child with a vietnamese mother and chinese father. Broonmark knew the score and knew exactly who he was being paid an extraordinary amount to watch.  
He didn’t care in the slightest. He thought she was an adorable little kid, and even though he spoke barely a word of English it wasn’t hard to keep up his job as a janitor at her school. The mother he admired because she reminded him of his own - fierce, but fiercely kind. As far as he could tell she also had a wicked sense of humour, given the amount of things her daughter had broken that she’d simply and lightly laughed off while the girl seemed far more anxious and despairing.  
Broonmark started the engine and followed way behind them, tapping the steering wheel to the joyful tune playing on the radio.  
  
  
People bustled in and out of the cafe, brightly coloured outfits swaying in the breeze and price tags dancing along with them, matching the cheery music that was coming from inside the building. Miro stood outside, counting how much cash she had on her, very much enjoying the scene from the outside before slipping past someone who’d come outside to smoke, entering and immediately surprised at the calm atmosphere cultivated within.    
A fair amount of the people attending were people she’d seen before in the area, one in particular a young woman a little shorter than she was, sporting hair in a short bob cut above her ears, dyed a bright blue, with skin only a little lighter than her own, in intense conversation with another woman with a shaved head and intense, carefully applied eyeliner.   
Miro turned to look at a rack of clothes by the staircase, instantly drawn in by a black dress with gold sequins along the seams. Understated, but eye-catching. She grinned to herself, and draped it over her arm, perusing the other options.   
“Hey there”   
A young, cheerful voice came from behind her. She turned to see the girl with blue hair. Miro smiled, curious.   
“Hello”   
“I’ve seen you around these events a lot. Thought I’d finally come say hi”   
“It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Miro Vosper”   
Miro extended her free hand to the woman, who shook it, her grip exceptionally gentle.   
“Vette. I’m Vette. And my friend by the bar is Kaliyo”   
The woman with the eyeliner. Of course. Miro tilted her head.   
“Do you live around here?”   
“Yeah. Haven’t always. Came about six years ago, but it’s real nice. So many good events. You?” Vette awkwardly put her hands in the pockets of her denim overalls.   
“Yes. My family is situated a bit further south, but I live here with my daughter”   
“Daughter? How old?”   
“Five. She’s adopted. An absolute treasure”   
Miro couldn’t help sounding like a stereotype, but it was true. She loved Elouise. Vette laughed, a wonderful, carefree sound. Miro grinned again. She loved making friends. Especially when they were so attractive.   
  
  
Broonmark worked with the attention to detail he’d give if maintaining his own house. Everything in the school remained immaculately clean and in perfect working order. He’d taught himself that if he didn’t go all out in a job, any job, he’d just feel useless about it.   
Of course, working in a school was a new one. And a primary school, at that. He rarely ventured west, and if he did the jobs were quick, only requiring a one or two day stay. Still, he’d been hired even while attending this one, and since it was only observation he could easily slip away to earn some extra cash from bumping off a cheating spouse. He was good at it. It gave him pleasure to remember, especially when he was cleaning the floors of the school canteen after lunch. Reminiscing on cleaning blood spatter kept the boredom at bay, and ensured the remainders of any food residue were long gone.   
The girl was outside, playing tag with her friends in the playground. Broonmark had a clear view from where he was, wiping over the tables and chairs while she ran around laughing, the ribbon in her hair no longer in a tidy bow but clinging onto her black ponytail with its knot and pure luck. A gust of wind could blow the red satin into the air, he thought, and threw a dirty antiseptic wipe into the bin with the same abandon he thought the ribbon would fly with. When he looked back, he saw she was gone.   
Frowning in frustration, he finished up in the canteen and wiped his hands on his overalls, grasping the wooden broom and walking with it into the hall. He didn’t like to lose track of her if he could help it. She was probably round a corner he couldn’t see.   
There was work to be done in the hallways. Wrappers and broken stationary littered the corners of the floor where excited children had ran through after being dismissed from lunch and allowed to play. Broonmark bent over to sweep up the debris and dust, eyeing the corners of the ceiling. Cobwebs were beginning to form once again. In the heat, spiders had found their homes inside the building. He’d have to get the stepladder out.   
“Um, sir?”   
Broonmark whipped around, and looked down to see a pair of heterochromic eyes wide in expression, gazing up at him. The girl.   
“What is it?” He replied slowly, aware his accent might be too thick to understand. He hoped she didn’t say anything he couldn’t catch.   
“I wanted to give you this”   
She held out a sweet, one of those hard-boiled sweets on a stick wrapped in difficult plastic. Taken aback by the sudden confrontation - they’d never spoken before - there was a pause before he could gather himself. He let out a quiet belly-laugh, and reached out his hand, taking the sweet from the bulbous end.   
“Thank you”   
She smiled, and bowed very politely, before running back in the direction of the playground. Broonmark watched her go.  
  
  
Elouise was a clever girl. She might have only been six years old but she knew many things. She knew her mumma wasn’t her mother in the same way a lot of her friends had parents. She wasn’t a stranger to the idea of adoption. She knew her mumma had chosen her from when she was a baby, and it made her feel special. Sometimes her friends at school would talk about how they didn’t want to go back to their home - and with one or two of them she could tell they meant it, but that wasn’t the case for Elouise. She knew her mumma liked many people, not just boys, just like they taught about at the primary school she attended. She knew that there were some people who didn’t want this to be taught, as they stood outside some days with big signs and angry faces, but her mumma wouldn’t let her go anywhere near them so she had to stare at them while they got into the car to go home. She knew about science and history and was good at reading for her age, and could tie her hair up completely by herself and was learning how to speak mandarin because her mumma said she should.    
Elouise loved her mumma very much, and sometimes was jealous of how her hair was fluffy instead of flat and straight like hers, because although they’d spend time braiding her hair to match her mumma’s it never looked quite right. But Elouise had her ‘special eyes’, her mumma called them, one brown and one blue, and they were pretty enough to satisfy any need to feel like she looked like nobody else. Sometimes she wondered if her blood relatives had eyes like she did. Maybe she got one from one and one from the other.   
Elouise was a clever girl, and knew all of this, just like she knew that the man who was often in the hallway of school mopping the floor was the same man she saw at the park she went to, and who sat in the car outside her house in the morning and evening, just watching. She knew he was watching her, because he was always around no matter who she was with. She hadn’t told her mumma about him yet because she liked his white hair and beard and smile and she’d heard her teacher saying how clean the school had been since he’d started working there.   
Elouise was clever, so she watched him back.  
  
  
When the day had ended, Broonmark bypassed the teachers who wanted to give him polite formalities and left to follow Elouise. Her mother ushered the girl into the car, the sound of their conversation just loud enough to make out their cheerful tone and laughter. Broonmark got into his own vehicle and took his time starting the engine.    
  
The mother was baking. The girl was excitedly running around, trying to help while also trying to play. The mother was laughing along, Broonmark could see, and occasionally running after her daughter in a mock chase.   
Elouise lifted up a heavy bag of flour to her mother, losing the grip of it and dropping it. The older woman turned, fast, and stopped it in midair, holding her hand out a few centimetres above it. She took the bag in her other hand, and ruffled the girl’s hair, the powdered sugar on her hands going everywhere.  
The two of them giggled, and went back to playing, baking together. Broonmark checked his watch, and started his engine. It was time for him to clock off.    
Just as he did, he got a call on his mobile. Looking at the number, he raised his eyebrows. His benefactor.   
“Hello?”   
“Broonmark?”   
“This is he”   
“I wanted to check you’ve been keeping a watch over my daughter”   
“Of course”   
“And you have the pictures?”   
“Yes, Nastena. I have them all”   
“Good”   
  


“I’m pissing blood”   
“Babe, why didn’t you go to the hospital?”   
“Didn’t wanna go outside”   
Doc could understand that. He shrugged off his jacket, rolling his sleeves up and reaching above the bookcase for his medical supplies. The first aid kid was almost bursting open, and he grabbed the other boxes, hoping he didn’t just have an inordinate amount of bandages and latex gloves.   
“Alright, clothes off”   
“Excuse me?”   
“I gotta be sure you haven’t been seriously hurt”   
Mal sighed in exasperation, and started to awkwardly pull his vest over his head, the cloth muffling his half-hearted protests.   
“You know, usually I’d want to get taken out first. Buy me dinner or something.”   
“Do the ingredients for beef noodle soup count?”   
Mal sat on the couch, topless, and glanced over to the bags. “You got that shit?”   
“You betcha”   
“Yeah, okay. That counts”  
“Pants too, please”    
“You want me to be naked?”   
“Not unless there’s any damage specific to anything on your butt”   
“I don’t believe so”   
“Then just your pants”   
Mal reluctantly took his sweatpants off, looking increasingly uncomfortable. Doc decided to try to lighten the mood, and pulled a pair of blue gloves on, snapping the latex.   
“I think I own about a thousand pairs of these”   
“Didn’t they used to come with talc powder?”   
“Sure did. Felt like I was baking every time” Doc sat beside him, and leant forward, examining the bruises on his abdomen. “This is probably going to hurt, but tell me if it’s too bad”   
Carefully, he pressed on each swelling, hearing a sharp intake of breath as he did. There was no sound or feeling of grating or cracking anywhere, thankfully, so it was likely only a case of bruising.   
“Nothing too bad there. Alright, let me see your shoulder”   
Mal shifted around so he had his back to him, and Doc briefly looked at the scars that were there for what wasn’t the first time, before moving onto examining his right shoulder. It had started to swell, and looked slightly different to the left. Doc already could gauge a diagnosis, but had to be sure it wasn’t just his eyes. He sighed, and gently placed his hands on his skin.   
“Again, let me know if this gets too bad”   
Gently, he squeezed on the top of the swelling, and Mal sucked in air, looking over to the window, but didn’t speak. Doc kept pressing, moving his thumbs lower and pressing further down the front of the joint. As soon as his fingers made contact with a singular point in the swelling, Mal cried out and tried to pull out of his grasp.   
“Fuck!”   
“Okay, alright. Show me where you can lift your arm up to”   
Mal glared at him for a long minute, before slowly lifting it to below a 90 degree angle.   
“Anything further than that is a no-go”   
“Alright. That’s gonna need to go in a sling for a few weeks”   
Sitting back, Doc let Mal slump against the couch again and looked him over. “I’m gonna check out your face, might need some antiseptic on it. I think some of the skin on your cheek got scraped off”   
“Check out this first”   
Mal offered his left hand, keeping it limp. Doc took it, carefully, and turned it over, seeing the bumps and discolouration. He’d wager there was at least one broken bone in there. Careful not to press on the centre of the injury, he prodded about the edge of the dark bruise, moving further inward each time.  
“Mmm” Mal shook his head, grimacing. Doc pulled away, and nodded to himself.  
“That’ll need a brace on it. Since it’s your hand it should heal itself”    
“Wouldn’t be the first time”   
“No?”   
“She’s broken it twice before. Second time it didn’t heal right, so I had to have it broken and reset in the hospital”   
Outrage wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Doc shook his head in disbelief and moved on to examining his friend’s face. He carefully got out his microporous tape, cutting a small amount of gauze to put on his skin before disinfecting it and taping the gauze in place. Malavai was silent the entire time, his expression almost entirely devoid of emotion.   
“Is there anything I missed?”   
“I think she bruised the back of my head”   
“Alright”   
Tentatively, Doc took a look at the state of his skull, parting the hair but being careful not to pull it. There was some reddening of the skin, but no sign of any damage of note.   
“That’ll heal up in no time”   
Doc stepped back and opened one of the larger boxes, sifting through different bandages to find a sling. It had been far too long since he had gone through these; there was a stupid amount of genuine bandage rolls and so far no sling. Tipping the box out, he spread its contents on the floor, he found a single padded support, a pack of safety pins and a large piece of cloth.  
"Good arm up"  
Malavai rolled his eyes and raised his left arm above his head while Doc wrapped his right shoulder to his torso in the cloth, fastening it in place with a couple of safety pins, pretending to not notice the glitter of forming tears in the other man’s eyes. If he wanted to get into any of it, he would.    
But Doc could settle for helping to distract from an incredibly stressful situation. Along with being sure his friend wasn’t seriously hurt.   
“Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”   
“Mm-mm”   
That was a no. Good.   
“Stick to paracetamol for the time being. No anti-inflammatory in case it’s worse than it seems”   
If he wasn’t as conscience of his actions as he was, he’d figure he was trying to make up for an imagined guilt. But Doc knew exactly what he was trying to make up for, and though it was completely unspoken, he regretted having left to improve his career. Now, thanks to the state of the NHS he was no better off than before, except now he had a traumatised friend to worry about.   
None of it was genuinely his fault, but he felt it was. It made him feel better to be a help.   
And some part of him thought that if he hadn’t have made his choices, they wouldn’t be where they were now, sentimentally enjoying the ease of each other’s company.  
Doc finished putting the sling into place, testing the velcro and going back to his pile of random supplies to search for a hand splint. The search didn’t take long, and he carefully placed it around the injury.    
“She did this with just her hand?”   
Mal nodded, grinding his teeth. “Just grabbed it and squeezed.”   
Doc sat back, finished. “You should probably sleep a bit upright tonight. And maybe think about leaving the country”   
“I’m not running”   
Looking himself over, Malavai shook his head and carefully stood up, moving toward the kitchen and opening the fridge.   
“I’m not leaving everything behind for some psycho”   
With his free hand, the one in the splint, he picked out a beer and opened it with his teeth, spitting the lid into the bin. He took a swig, and then chugged the rest in one go. Doc watched in disapproval, trying to not laugh as he burped and almost threw up in his mouth.   
“At least it’s not whiskey”   
“Yet. You wait until I get outside. That’s the first thing I’m buying”   
After clearing up his supplies, Doc started unpacking the shopping bags, putting out what he was going to make for dinner. Mal watched, leaning on the counter.   
“I’m an invalid. Guess I’m not helping out with dinner”   
“You can just tell me what I’m doing wrong. Like you always do”   
“Oh, shut up”   
Doc got to work on cooking, turning on the radio on his laptop to a mexican channel, grinning to himself. Days off were always worth it. Even when a deranged psychopath was on the loose.   
  
“You know, I think we might have a kid”  
Mal’s voice was quiet, and sounded like he’d been trying to get that statement out for a while. Doc put his spoon down, wondering where this was going. “Really?”    
“I obviously have no way of knowing, but I’m pretty sure”   
“Would you ever wanna find them?”   
“Would you want to know that you were made...in a pit of misery? No. They’re better off wherever they are”  
Mal’s voice was a dull sarcastic edge. Once upon a time he’d been at least a little happier than this. Doc swirled the noodles around in his bowl, tilting his head in polite disagreement.    
“Don’t you think they’d want to choose that for themselves?”   
“Come on. They’d be like, five? Six? Nah. They’ll get to eighteen, find out about their mother, and drop all interest”   
Doc left it at that. He’d made his mind up, that was that. There were other things to think about.   
“You wanna watch  _ Las Tres Marias? _ ”   
Mal sat back, putting down his utensils. “Sure”


End file.
